


Don't Make Mistakes

by rosewiththorns



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Bad Decisions, Detroit Red Wings, Gen, Playoff Debuts, Stanley Cup Playoffs, teammates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 14:44:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3772141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewiththorns/pseuds/rosewiththorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexey knows he's not supposed to make any mistakes, but he's afraid he already made a big one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Make Mistakes

Don’t Make Mistakes

“You and Petr were amazing, Pasha.” Alexey gazed at Pavel’s slender, small hands—so frail considering they contained magic that had left Ben Bishop’s jockstrap in the rafters of Amalie Arena twice—which were wrapped around the Gatorade bottle he was squirting into his mouth. “The rest of our team flat like old soda. Bad win.” 

“Any win in playoffs good win. Team do better next time, but—“ Pavel treated Alexey to a slight smile—“you do all right for first playoff game. Some nervous shifts but then you get your skates under you.” 

“I didn’t want to make mistakes.” Alexey nibbled on his lower lip, because he knew even though his English was limited that the only reason he had been called up from Grand Rapids was since Smith had goofed big time by playing the puck from the bench against Montreal. In contrast to Smith, Alexey was supposed to not make any mistakes, and when he skated against Tampa that mantra—don’t make any mistakes—had been a constant refrain in the back of his mind. Ironically, though, it seemed to be easier to make mistakes when you were trying not to do so. Maybe that was what had gone wrong with Smith when he had his mental malfunction on the bench. 

“Don’t worry about that too much.” Pavel nudged Alexey with an elbow. “Distracts you.” 

“I feel sorry for Smitty.” Alexey’s teeth pierced his lip, flooding his mouth with the metallic tang of blood. “Got to be rough to be benched during the playoffs after being in the lineup all year.” 

“Not your fault Smitty’s sitting.” Pavel’s dark eyes latched onto Alexey’s, pinning him in place like tacks. “His fault. Needs to cut back on bad decisions like playing puck from bench.” 

“I don’t feel guilty about playing in playoffs.” Alexey coiled his fingers through his sweaty hair, wrestling with himself. “When I was called up and Smitty benched against Carolina, I happy. Excited.” 

“It your chance to make impression on Coach.” Pavel phrased it as an observation, not a question. 

“Yeah.” Replying to it anyway, Alexey nodded. “That make me bad teammate?” 

“You happier to play or see Smitty benched?” Pavel arched an eyebrow. 

“To play, of course.” Alexey was surprised—and maybe a little offended—that Pavel would even ask that. 

“Then you good teammate, Alexey.” For emphasis, Pavel clapped Alexey on the shoulder. “You not make mistake, okay?”


End file.
